


compromised

by demonsorceress



Series: angst meme [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, prompt: major injury, writing meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-24
Updated: 2014-10-24
Packaged: 2018-02-22 10:47:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2505062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demonsorceress/pseuds/demonsorceress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Things are already hard enough as they are; she really can’t handle more drama in her life right now. He’s not at all allowed to die, for god’s sake."</p>
            </blockquote>





	compromised

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: major injury, sent by leofjtz.

The rhythmic beeping of the heart rate monitor is a low sound, but it seems to fill up the entire room. Skye sits on the armchair besides the hospital bed with her back arched, forehead resting on her hands, elbows pressed against her thighs, eyes shut. She's exhausted, both physically and emotionally.

Being a SHIELD agent was considerably less dangerous before Hydra happened. For starters, they weren’t despised by all of the other agencies in the country while framed as terrorists by the entire population. Carrying the SHIELD logo—something they used to do a lot, thanks to the organization’s slight obsession of printing their logo on everything from cars to water bottles—became something impracticable if they wanted to do their jobs. Calling yourself a SHIELD agent nowadays would only do so much as get you arrested immediately.

They are literally building the organization back up from scratch. Whereas they previously had an insane amount of money and resources available, now they have to worry about things that they used to take for granted simply because they weren’t a concern at all, such as wasting plane fuel. Another major issue was the lack of personnel—until a few months ago, Coulson’s team was just a ragtag group of misfits among the thousands of SHIELD employees all over the country and the world, and now they’re the core of the entire agency.

Losing agents was never easy to deal with and will never be, but the cold, harsh truth is that dead operatives could be replaced in a matter of hours before SHIELD fell. Deaths in the field were handled quickly: name up on the Wall of Honor, noble funeral, compensation for the family. The sad reality now is that they can’t even have so much as a decent burial for the ones they’ve lost.

And they can’t afford to lose anyone. Because there’s definitely not a whole lot of people there to begin with. Every death counts a thousand times more than it used to; not only in terms of losing loyal agents during such a delicate moment, but also emotionally. It’s hard not to grow close to the people standing there with you when you’re the only ones still standing.

Out of the three mercenaries that had joined SHIELD months ago, two have died in a mission where the third one’s survival was quite a miracle in itself. And Lance, after being the only one to get out alive of the tragic car accident that costed the lives of Isabelle Hartley and Idaho, nearly got himself killed today.

No wonder Skye is pissed when he finally wakes up. And utterly relieved that he’s even waking up, as opposed to what she feared when she saw his pale body laying covered in blood on the ground, but still. Things are already hard enough as they are; she really can’t handle more drama in her life right now. He’s not at all allowed to die, for god’s sake.

“Oh wow,” he croaks. “Good to know I’m not dead.”

Skye quietly watches as he lifts his hospital gown to take a look at the covered gunshot wound on the left side of his abdomen. She can see him flinch and try to hide it as the movement clearly puts him in pain. He bites his lower lip before taking a deep breath and looking up to meet Skye’s gaze, giving her the faintest of smiles. She’s now standing by his bed, arms crossed in front of her chest.

“Hey there,” he says, his voice a mere hoarse whisper thanks to the breathing tube that was shoved down his throat during the surgery he went through hours ago.

“Hey there,” she repeats bitterly. “Really?”

He frowns, confused by her reaction. She knows he was expecting something warmer from her. “I’m glad you’re alive too, Skye,” he snaps snarkily.

She eyerolls and huffs out a breath. “Of course I’m glad you’re alive, but I’d prefer if you weren’t even here to begin with,” she retorts.

“Well, love, that makes two of us.”

Skye exhales and shakes her head slightly, not at all surprised that he can still be a sarcastic pain in the ass even right after a near-death experience.

“I didn’t ask to be shot, just so you know,” he protests.

Skye can’t stop herself. “Except you actually did so!” She counters, her tone getting louder and angrier as she keeps going. "I wasn't going to get shot, you could've just run the other way like I told you to, but of course you had to try to be my goddamn knight in shining armor, and ended up getting yourself shot!"

The way the corners of his lips curve into a smirk tells her that he isn't willing to discuss this at all. As expected, he regrets nothing and thinks being alive means what he did was reasonable and worth it. It makes her furious.

"Listen, I know this is a lot to ask of you, but could you please try to take things seriously this one time?" Skye pleads, pacing across the small room as she talks. "A few inches to the right and that bullet could've cost you a kidney."

His answer comes so quickly she doesn't even have time to finish her statement. "Well, it's a good thing I have two, then," he quips.

Skye freezes in place and shoots him a sharp glare. "Your sarcasm would be more effective if you weren't in this pathetic hospital gown, looking like shit."

His jaw drops and he arches his eyebrows, pretending to be offended. "Don't be mad," he says, his voice a softer tone now. It's about damn time he dropped the snark. "I'm just teasing you."

She knows that; he always is. It's usually not funny whatsoever, but it's even more unbearable after she's just spent the past several hours waiting for him to come back after she thought she'd lost him.

"I don't ever want to be paired with you for missions again," Skye blurts out. "Today was a testimony to how that doesn't work. You shouldn't have been shot. This," she gestures to the whole room, "could've easily been avoided."

"Forgive me, but can't all incidents technically be avoided one way or the other?" He replies but it just makes her more upset as she keeps going.

"You shouldn't have been worried about protecting me. You know this. It's not your job, and we can't afford to make this kind of mistake."

"You're right," he says, much to her surprise, not only because he's admitting she's right but also because she could've sworn he would deny everything she's accusing him of. "I'm compromised, true. It's better if we start going into the field in different pairs rather than together if we can't establish the priorities we should as agents when hell breaks loose like it did today."

Skye finds herself speechless, so she just nods at him. She definitely thought this discussion would last much longer, because she's well aware of just how stubborn Lance is. She never thought she'd hear him say he's "compromised". Near-death experiences truly are powerful in changing people, and Skye learned that firsthand.

Lance looks down to avoid her gaze, and then examines the entire room around him, focusing on the window with the blinds closed.

"What time- How long have you been here?"

Skye sighs, running a hand through her hair. She desperately wants to take a shower, change out of this combat outfit and just throw herself in bed for the next two days at least.

"Long," she answers. "It's 10 AM now."

Lance's eyes widen. He remembers being shot and knows it was late night when that happened. This means Skye has been awake since they got up yesterday, which amounts to over 24 hours. She went from the mission straight to the cold hallway outside the operation room, anxiously begging for any updates from the doctors and nurses that walked in and out, and then to the uncomfortable armchair in Lance's room, helplessly watching her unconscious boyfriend.

He tilts his head and gives her a warm smile. "How many cups of coffee have you had, huh?" He asks sweetly in an attempt to light up the mood.

She lets out a dry chuckle. "Enough," she responds.

Lance starts scooching over carefully, freeing up space next to him.

"Hey!" Skye chides, rushing to his side to stop him. The movement tugs on his wound and the pain it causes is visible as he groans and clenches his jaw. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Come here," he says, weakly patting the mattress next to him and then tugging her wrist.

Skye glares at him in disbelief. Does he seriously want to cuddle in a hospital bed?

"C'mon, Skye," he insists. "You need to sleep, and I'm not getting out of here anytime soon anyway." She still isn't convinced. "This bed is big enough for both of us, you know."

She gives in because he's right; it is in fact big enough for them to share, so she climbs into the bed as carefully as possible not to hurt him. He can't be bothered to stay still like she begs him to, however, and slides an arm around her neck to pull her closer. She reluctantly rests her head on his shoulder and he presses a sweet kiss to the top of her head.

Skye stiffens, the gesture catching her by surprise. "Did you really just do that?"

"Yep," he mutters nonchalantly, already annoyed that she's making this a big deal to mock him. "Get over it."

She laughs soundly and places her hand over his. "Being shot made you a softie," she teases him.

He sighs out loud. "Shut up and sleep, Skye."

 


End file.
